them into meshes, after the pattern of
Queen Ran's magic net; for men had not, at that time, learned how to
make or use nets for fishing. And the first fisherman who caught fish in
that way is said to have taken Loki's net as a model.

Odin sat, on the morrow, in his high hall of Hlidskialf, and looked
out over all the world, and saw, even to the uttermost corners, what
men-folk were everywhere doing. When his eye rested upon the dark line
which marked the mountain-land of the Mist Country, he started up in
quick surprise, and cried out,

"Who is that who sits by the Fanander Force, and ties strong cords
together?"

But none of those who stood around could tell, for their eyes were not
strong enough and clear enough to see so far.

"Bring Heimdal!" then cried Odin.

Now, Heimdal the White dwells among the blue mountains of sunny
Himminbjorg, where the rainbow, the shimmering Asa-bridge, spans the
space betwixt heaven and earth. He is the son of Odin, golden-toothed,
pure-faced, and clean-hearted; and he ever keeps watch and ward over the
mid-world and the homes of frail men-folk, lest the giants shall break
in, and destroy and slay. He rides upon a shining steed named Goldtop;
and he holds in his hand a horn called Gjallar-horn, with which, in
the last great twilight, he shall summon the world to battle with
the Fenris-wolf and the sons of Loki. This watchful guardian of the
mid-world is as wakeful as the birds. And his hearing is so keen, that
no sound on earth escapes him,--not even that of the rippling waves upon
the seashore, nor of the quiet sprouting of the grass in the meadows,
nor even of the growth of the soft wool on the backs of sheep. And his
eyesight, too, is wondrous clear and sharp; for he can see by night as
well as by day, and the smallest thing, although a hundred leagues away,
cannot be hidden from him.

To Heimdal, then, the heralds hastened, bearing the words which Odin
had spoken. And the watchful warder of the mid-world came at once to the
call of the All-Father.

"Turn your eyes to the sombre mountains that guard the shadowy Mist-land
from the sea," said Odin, "Now look far down into the rocky gorge in
which the Fanander Cataract pours, and tell me what you see."

Heimdal did as he was bidden.

"I see a shape," said he, "sitting by the torrent's side. It is Loki's
shape, and he seems strangely busy with strong strings and cords."

"Call all our folk together!" commanded Odin. "The wil